


Winner Kisses

by Kumikirin



Series: Two is Better Than One [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Background Viktuuri - Freeform, Day 2: Celebrations, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, OtaYuri Week, OtaYuri Week 2017, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Kissing Turned Romantic Kissing, Teasing Otabek, Viktuuri wedding because why not, Yuri's fifteen almost sixteen at the start, and around seventeen at the end, embarrassed Yuri, second prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumikirin/pseuds/Kumikirin
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky had never had something he considered his ‘own way of celebrating’, only maybe crying a couple of times after nailing a particularly difficult or exhausting performance. It’s on his senior debut, the day he seizes gold after his exhausting and complex Allegro Appassionato in B Minor, when he finally gets what will then become his own, unique way of celebrating with a very specific person.Or: Otabek thinks kissing is a good way to congratulate his friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to have my boys kissing a lot. That's it, I didn't have deeper reasons to write this. Kissing is good, let them kiss. Posted on tumblr and FF.net too! Betaed by the lovely AikoRose ♥ tysm!
> 
> Come talk to me @ [kumikirin](http://kumikirin.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, let's share headcanons and enjoy this ship together!

Everyone in this world has their own way of celebrating, be it alone or with others. More specifically, everyone in the skating world has their own way of celebrating victories. Some people make gestures, just like JJ Leroy with his silly hand signs or Otabek Altin with his tendency to put his fists in the air. Some people jump or scream to let the euphoria out, like Minami Kenjirou. Some people need to hug someone else and squeeze as hard as their adrenalin-high allows them, or their need for reassurance after all the stress of the performance in Yuuri Katsuki’s case. Some people leap at each other like Sara Crispino and Mila Babicheva do after a particularly good program, and some people cry as they're unable to contain that much emotion as seen in Georgi Popovich’s or Phichit Chulanont’s case. Other people reward themselves with a tasty treat or a drink like Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki and Michele Crispino are known to do, and some people just bask in the roaring sound of a crowd congratulating them as Christophe Giacometti does while waving at his fans. Some people, in a weird and undefined and usually unexpected celebration, do all of the previous things at the same time.

In his case, he’d never had a specific way of doing it.

Yuri Plisetsky had never had something he considered his ‘own way of celebrating’, only maybe crying a couple of times after nailing a particularly difficult or exhausting performance. But even that had been just a handful of occasions, as he isn't exactly the type to easily show that level of emotion.

It’s on his senior debut, the day he seizes gold after his exhausting and complex Allegro Appassionato in B Minor, when Yuri Plisetsky finally gets what will then become his own, unique way of celebrating with a very specific person.

 

•  
•

The first time they do it is right after Yuri finishes his FS on the day of the Grand Prix Final. Lilia had been one hell of a choreographer and tutor, she had pushed him to his limits until he could barely stand up without shaking like a newborn deer at the end of the day, and he’s proud to say all his effort and hard work has paid off in the end; so proud of his achievements and so fucking proud of _himself_ that he can't help but fall to his knees and start bawling right there in the middle of the rink, now that all has ended and every bit of stress and anxiousness and fear comes crashing down on him along with a wave of relief because _it's finally over, he fucking did it._

The crowd roars to life to show their support, amazed by his growth as an athlete and by the display of talent he just showed them. He knows people expect a lot from him and hopes he could meet their standards, hopes he could make his grandfather proud, that he could show Viktor and Yuuri how much he’s learned in the last months, and that he could surprise Otabek.

In between the screams and cries from the public, the chants of ‘Yuratchka’ coming from his crazy but still somewhat lovely fans, he recognizes Viktor and Yuuri yelling his name with delight and cheeriness that he deems a little excessive coming from the competition, but makes him all warm inside nonetheless. He can’t help the exhilarated smile that forms on his lips when he locks eyes with his self-proclaimed parents, barely being able to cover it with his hands over his mouth while the tears keep on falling in wet trails down his cheeks, red from exertion and from crying.

And, as he fully pries his hands from his face and prepares to get up and head to the Kiss and Cry, a deep and already familiar voice catches his ear.

“Yuri!” The sound of his name said by that man makes his chest feel like it's filled with a thousand feathers, floating around and tickling his insides. Yuri’s head instantly shoots up in the direction of the voice, and he’s met with the blurry sight of Otabek Altin, his hands cupping around his mouth so as to help his voice reach him. As soon as their eyes meet Otabek extends his arms and Yuri, moving on instinct, gets up in a hurry and half skates, half sprints towards him. The last meter or so is cut by Yuri leaping at Otabek and tangling his arms around his neck, where he also buries his face. Otabek raises him in his arms, a couple of centimeters from the floor, and stumbles back to regain balance. “You were fantastic,” he says, and Yuri sobs loudly. Otabek squeezes him in his arms, and Yuri is faintly aware of the fact that he’s trying to push down that red and pink stuff on his shoulder with his chin.

“Otabek, _fuck_ ,” he chokes, trying to get his crying to stop, “I did it,” he manages to get out of his trembling lips, and after a short moment he pulls away from his friend to look at him, barely a couple of centimeters apart, “I _did_ it.”

“Yeah,” Otabek muses, smiling a soft, private smile that makes his eyes look smaller and gentler. He lowers Yuri to the ground and carefully wipes away the tears falling down his left cheek, “You most certainly did.”

Yuri doesn’t know how it happened, only that when he noticed Otabek was leaning towards him it was already a little bit too late. His eyes grow wide with shock as their lips touch, firm and warm and wet and salty, and in a blink of an eye it’s over. Yuri almost falls back, his brain just now catching up.

“W-what-?” he fights to make the question leave his lips, but in the end he’s left just standing there with the words still hanging from his tongue, cheeks stained the brightest red and accusatory eyes glued to his friend.

Otabek looks at him like he doesn’t understand a thing. The place is deadly silent.

“Oh, sorry,” he says after a moment, but it’s obvious he’s just being polite because he still clearly doesn’t understand what he just did. “Viktor did it to congratulate Katsuki.”

And that’s Otabek Altin’s only explanation on why he kissed Yuri Plisetsky after his program.

Well, Yuri thinks, it wasn’t _in_ the Kiss and Cry, but it was the first time that he actually kissed and cried while waiting for his score.

 

•  
•

After the GPF come Nationals, and then Euros for Yuri and Four Continents for Otabek, so it’s three months later when they get to see each other again. Worlds at Helsinki comes around with new programs, but no matter how excited Yuri had been to show Otabek his most recent routines, how masterfully he glided over the ice with polished movements, how proudly he finished his performance with his chin pointed up or how sure he was he’d secured a place in the podium when he got the highest score yet, he finds himself staring wide eyed at Otabek when he skates out into the ice right after him. His program is a powerful and elegant display, much better than the ones he’d seen in person and watched in video. He’s precise, delicate in a way you wouldn’t think he could be if you met him out of the rink, and it renders Yuri speechless.

This time it’s Yuri’s turn to receive Otabek at the edge of the ice, arms spread wide open to catch him in a hug that brings their thumping hearts as close as it’s physically possible.

“That was _awesome_!” Yuri breathes out, still marvelled at the way Otabek’s perfectly coordinated steps and powerful jumps play repeatedly in his mind. He’s never been good with words, so he stumbles to find a way to express the way Otabek’s wonderful performance had made his blood pump with an excitement he’s long since last felt while watching another skater. “Beka, you’re incredible.”

“Thanks,” never one for many words and decidedly better at making himself understood with gestures, Otabek quirks his lips in a soft smile meant only for Yuri, and it tells way more than a whole speech could.

When Otabek snatches the gold, leaving Yuri taking silver while wondering how someone who had missed the podium barely three months ago could improve so much in such a short time, it’s Yuri’s turn to celebrate with him.

He doesn’t care about the cameras, and definitely doesn’t care about what Yakov will yell at him after this. He just grabs the lace Otabek’s medal is tied with around his neck, and pulls. Their lips meet in a press that’s weirdly warm in between the coldness of the rink.

They part shortly after, when Yuri stops tugging. Otabek looks surprised, but not too much. It’s natural, Yuri thinks, since he’d done something similar at the GPF.

“Yura?” is his way of asking for an explanation.

“You owed me from last Grand Prix,” is Yuri’s reply, as he thinks Otabek shouldn’t need to be explained. Then he smirks, “You didn’t think I’d walk out of here without taking my gold, did you?”

Otabek stares at him with those deep dark eyes of his, then huffs through his nose and turns back to the cameras. Yuri knows if they were alone together that would’ve been a laugh.

 

•  
•

The couple of months between Worlds and the Grand Prix are peppered with short visits to St. Petersburg and Almaty, and somewhere in between kissing each other becomes almost like a second nature, something that feels just right to do. When they hit the rink one Sunday before Yuri goes back to Russia and he manages to perfectly land his new triple-quad jump combo for the first time, he leaps into Otabek’s arms and kisses him. When Otabek gets invited for a two-week training under Yakov to improve his skills, they celebrate his arrival at the airport with smiling mouths pressed together. When Yuri gets the highest score in one of his tests, Otabek takes his face between his hands and Yuri relaxes against his lips. When they make a quick escapade to an arcade and win a challenge to a Dance Dance Revolution match, they both delve into a kiss. When they are placed together at the Rostelecom cup they send each other a kiss emoji, and go for the real thing the moment Otabek arrives at the hotel. When they both place in the podium with silver and bronze, they wait until they’re side by side again for Yuri to thread his fingers in Otabek’s undercut, and their medals clink with the press of their chests coming together for the mandatory kiss.

When they get to the Final and Yuri takes a nasty fall that costs him his bronze while Otabek once again misses the podium, they still share a kiss in the changing rooms.

They also kiss when they part ways the next day, returning to their respective countries to start over and prepare for the Olympics. There’s nothing to celebrate this time, but neither of them says a thing about that.

 

•  
•

Old Man Viktor and his Piggy Fiancé become Old Man Viktor and his Piggy Husband after Yuuri finally managed to take gold at the GPF.

Yuri had never suspected himself to be the kind of person to get emotional over a wedding, but seeing Viktor and Yuuri seal their love with a kiss made his lips tingle in a pleasant way, and he found he felt all warm inside. He would wonder the reason behind that reaction if it weren’t because he finds himself staring at Otabek’s lips so openly the man turns around to look at him. It dawns on him that maybe, somewhere between their first kiss and today, he’s sort of started liking Otabek’s kisses more and more. That maybe he wants to kiss him without needing a reason to. That maybe he doesn’t just like Otabek’s kisses, but him as a whole.

He’s not that surprised when he finds himself pinning Otabek against a wall a couple of hours later during the wedding reception, lips pressed hard against his. It doesn’t stop after the first one, the kisses just become more urgent and leave them both panting from the lack of proper breathing, even if they’re just pecking each other’s lips with a little too much force.

Otabek breathes heavily when Yuri finally parts for long enough, fingers grabbing his narrow hips in an attempt to steady them both. He doesn’t question the taste of champagne on the blond’s lips.

“What are we celebrating?” he asks instead.

Yuri doesn’t think his words carefully, much more occupied on caressing Otabek’s cheekbones with his thumbs.

“That I realized I want to kiss you for no reason at all,” he looks at Otabek’s lips and then right into his eyes, expectant.

Otabek leans down and bites his lower lip, licks it in a way that Yuri never thought he’d find sexy but he does, and their tongues meet for the first time. Also for the first time, Yuri allows his hands to snake their way around Otabek’s neck as they kiss, leaning into him as the Kazakh’s hands slide up his back and press him against his body.

“I can work with that,” Otabek whispers, and after that kiss there’s no need for more words. Yuri is feeling lightheaded, but he still tugs Otabek down for another one of those deep kisses.

They spend the rest of the night locked up in Otabek’s room, kissing without saying a word.

 

•  
•

“How are we going to celebrate now?” Yuri asks the next morning, when he finds himself laying in bed with his head over Otabek’s chest, his hair being petted slowly with careful strokes.

Otabek grunts in response, not having thought about that. Do they really need to change it?

“I guess I can think of some ways,” he says after a moment, but nothing is coming to mind. Not like he’s really trying, he feels too relaxed to put his mind at work.

Yuri slides the pads of his fingers over Otabek’s pectorals. Summer in Japan is hot, but they’re still pressed together, having changed into the thinnest tank tops they could find and proceeding then to comfortably snuggle. It’s not the first time they do something like this, so it’s not weird at all, even with the unexpected turn their relationship took last night.

Yuri rolls to the side and lies on his back, but his hand goes to touch Otabek again, this time caressing his cheek. It’s not long before Otabek gets up on his forearm and leans down to kiss him again, hovering over him just enough so that their chests barely touch. Yuri wonders if there’s such a thing as a kiss addiction, because if there is he’s starting to think he’s got it.

Being who he is, Yuri opens his phone camera and snaps a photo, mildly thinking about posting it on Instagram because he’s kissing Otabek fucking Altin and everyone in the world should know how lucky he is.

The camera makes a sound, though, and Otabek slowly pries their lips apart with a soft sound that’s starting to be Yuri’s favorite sound ever. He absolutely does _not_ instinctively pout at the loss.

Otabek takes Yuri’s hand on his own and twists it carefully, then proceeds to attentively study the picture.

“Yura, that looks like we already found another way to celebrate,” he finally states. He doesn’t look like it, but he’s amused. Yuri frowns slightly and turns the phone screen towards himself.

“What-?” Yuri takes a look at the picture and for a second he doesn’t understand. Then it suddenly dawns on him. After all, Otabek is practically laying over him, obviously in bed, and with Yuri’s hair sprawled all over and his arms hooking around Otabek’s shoulders and covering the tank top’s straps it looks like they’re not wearing anything _at all_. He laughs. “You pervert,” he can’t help the smile that comes to his lips. The thought of doing _that_ with Otabek hadn’t even crossed his mind, and though it is a little embarrassing he finds it rather amusing. “We’ve been dating for like five hours, control yourself,” he jokes.

Otabek slowly lifts his head, a smirk in place that has Yuri’s smile faltering and his whole body tensing up, because that look on Otabek’s eyes doesn’t augur anything good. He lifts an eyebrow and Yuri knows he’s doomed.

“Dating?” he simply asks.

_Fuck._

Yuri scrambles to get up, but ends up rolling over Otabek and awkwardly half sitting on his lap, the back of his thighs feeling the hard bone of Otabek’s hips pushing against his skin. He tries to get up but Otabek’s holding him by the hips, smirk still in place.

“... uh,” Yuri eloquently states, and promptly looks down to where his palms are uncomfortably pressing over Otabek’s ribs, trying to find a way to escape his mortification. He can feel the hot blush creeping up his neck and blooming in his cheeks like angry red verbenas. “I… thought…” he mumbles, not really sure of how to finish that sentence without further embarrassing himself.

Otabek seems to take pity on him, moving his hands towards his thighs and sliding them slowly up to his hips again, a gentle caress that’s supposed to take some of the tension away. Yuri looks up just enough to throw a tentative look at him, and finds such a tender, deep affection in Otabek’s eyes he can’t help but feel all warm and tingly inside.

“Are you asking me out, Plisetsky?” Otabek playfully asks, rubbing his thumbs over Yuri’s hips in soothing circles. He’s fucking _teasing_.

Yuri’s blush stays even when a grin spreads on his face. How is it possible to feel embarrassed and smug at the same time? Is there a word for that?

“I might be,” he answers, intending to sound just as playful as Otabek but not quite managing it because of his still present embarrassment. “What are you gonna do about it, Altin?”

 _Altin_ just smiles, brings his right hand to the back of Yuri’s head and pulls him down while at the same time pushing himself up from the bed with his left arm. Because of the unexpected force, Yuri’s elbows give in and both his forearms end up pressed over Otabek’s torso, trapped against it and his own chest. He relaxes and just melts against him, against that tongue that works wonders in his mouth and makes him forget about his nervousness, against that warm skin and those fingers threading his hair. He’s pretty light, so he’s sure Otabek can hold them both up with the strength of his arm and abs.

At some point Otabek hugs him close and shifts them both so they end up laying on their sides, but Yuri’s too lightheaded and focused on the kissing to actually care about anything else. What started as a slow and loving touch evolves into fervent and deep, while legs tangle and arms start caressing backs and sides and necks and napes and almost everything they can reach.

They’re panting when they finally part, eyes heavily lidded and lips reddened. Yuri lovingly runs a thumb over Otabek’s cheek and he smiles.

“Okay, you convinced me,” Otabek whispers, because the moment is too intimate for louder words, “You have a boyfriend now. As long as you keep kissing me like that.”

Yuri replies with a smile of his own and yet another deep kiss, shorter than last time but still passionate and careful.

“Maybe we should stick to celebration kisses,” Otabek pants when they part a little, beautiful brown eyes staring openly at Yuri’s swollen lips.

It only takes a moment before he leans down to bite Yuri’s lips, and the boy gasps.

“Yeah,” he won’t ever acknowledge the way his voice wavers with that simple word, “Yeah, we could do that.”

He holds Otabek’s jaw and goes for another kiss, one much softer than the previous ones, that turns into something like an uninterrupted sequence of open-mouthed pecks. He could do this for the rest of his life.

JJ can keep his hand signs, Yuuri can keep his katsudon, Mila and Sara can keep their hugs.

Yuri has his own way of celebrating now, and it’s the best way he could have ever hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this absurd idea of Otabek kissing Yuri to congratulate him because he'd seen Viktor do it with Yuuri. OtaYuri Week just gave me the perfect excuse to write it down.


End file.
